


The Crystal Palace

by boychik



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychik/pseuds/boychik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees her at the mouth of the gate of a beautiful building. No, a crystal castle. It’s clear, sparkling in the sunlight—he squints looking at it. It looks like it’s made entirely of polished glass. No matter which way he looks, a thousand arches stretch on and on… He can glimpse gardens pushing against the inner walls, but in most places the multiple facets of glass throw blinding rainbows of light across his vision and obscure what’s within.</p><p>“Wha…What is it?” he asks, voice bouncing too loud off crystal towers.</p><p>She laughs, a twinkling sound. Like far-off stars at night, or china if it could sing. “Silly,” she says. “This is my house! Come on!” She takes his hand and pulls him toward the shining gate to her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crystal Palace

**Author's Note:**

> Written in summer, but I was too embarrassed to post it...but eventually I wanted to, since I think the theme outweighs my embarrassment. It's so disturbing to me how Souda cultivates this mental shrine around Sonia. He puts her on a pedestal like, "Oh, she doesn't shit, and if she does, she shits diamonds." Such an unrealistic image of and obsession with her is so wrong: it's not how she sees herself or likely wants to be seen. It can't lead to either person's happiness...

i. 

_You could save us,_ he thinks. _So why don’t you?_

He’s on his hands and knees like an animal, staring down at her with her blouse stripped away to her waist. She’s not wearing anything underneath her shirt—it’s strange, in a way, that she had bothered to bleach and starch that blouse with the little puffed sleeves until it stood to attention like a toy soldier, arraigned the jumper the color of evergreens back home over her slim body, pulled the belt tight around that tiny waist of hers, carefully tied the ribbon around her neck and fastened that jewel at her throat—yet she never bothered to put on a bra. Had she planned it all, from the moment she walked into the room? Her smiling demurely from across the room, one bare fawnlike leg tilted over the over. Him under the car, screwing a loose bolt into place with a decisive twist of the wrench, oil dripping from his fingers—he barely had time to wipe them on his uniform before _she_ was somehow under _him—_

She wrestles under him, purring, _Beautiful hands, I wonder what they could do—to me—_ Her eyes are melting like candles on a holy night, pleading as she says his name.

 _Nice chassis you got there,_ he almost says, then remembers that women don’t like being compared to cars. He’s not sure why not: cars are warm, sleek, beautiful, and famous for people having sex in the backseat. Souda shrugs mentally and slides a hand up her skirt. Skin baby smooth all the way up and—what’s this? She’s not wearing panties either? And already so wet? 

She averts her eyes. Her face and neck are wonderfully flushed, her breasts exposed like two full moons. He kisses her throat like she’s been touched by an angel—like she’s an angel—with his eyes closed and his head flooded with a white light. The only thing he can hear is his own name, “Ah…Souda,” whimpered high and hot-breathed into the cut of his jaw. “Souda…Souda, ah…” Along with the hitch of breath comes the hitch of her body pressing closer to his. He was half-hard already, but now… Her exhale fills his ears, makes her breasts sigh and rise again. He runs his hands over them and her nipples peak under his fingers as he rolls them in hand.

He wrests his hands over her thin skin, flips her over. Plants a kiss to her ass. Sonia shudders.

She arches her back and he runs his stained fingers down her spine, settles around her tight waist. He adjusts himself behind her, still listening to her keening. He’s everywhere in her. Hearing “Souda, Souda,” it’s like being in a hall of mirrors.

 _Why, why,_ with every thrust and still there’s no answer save his own name. _Why, Souda—why, Souda—why…_

He leaves black marks all over her body.

 

ii. 

“Souda!” a voice calls low to him from across the room. He’s within a dream, scaling an endless tall tower as colors drip and bend around him. He raises his head at the sound, groggy and confused. His eyes are half-open in the dim light as he sees Sonia’s slim form materialize in the doorway.

She steps lightly over to his bedside and crouches down, grinning gorgeously.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be out at night,” Souda whispers. 

Sonia presses a finger to her lips and hazards a giggle. “It’s okay,” she says, too loudly. “It’ll be fine!”

“Shh!” he says. “You want someone to hear us or something?” His voice is louder than hers. 

“It’s fine!” she says back. “We’ll be quiet.” She slides her arms around his head and cradles it to her chest. 

He can feel her breasts, soft as pillows but peaked and effortlessly heavy, pressing into his skull. 

She runs her fingers through his hair. “You have beautiful hair,” she says. “A natural pinkette?” 

_That’s not a thing,_ Souda would have thought if he had enough blood in his head to think, but instead he sputters a “Y-yes.” _Yes Sonia yes Sonia yes._ “You don’t think it’s girly or anything?”

“It’s totally cute,” she says.

Cute, he thinks. Ordinarily this would be a good thing, the heartbreakingly perfect Sonia Nevermind saying that he’s cute. He’s not some kitty or puppy though, wandering about the island with neither a reason nor a talent. His heart, which had been battering against his sternum like Vikings storming a palace, suddenly shoots to his knees.

But then Sonia says: “Not at all! In my country’s history, magenta’s the manliest color there is. It signifies the blood of your enemies splattered across the battlefield.”

She says this in such a knowing tone, with a lovely smile that belies her words. Souda doesn’t care, he’s crazy, crazy, falling in…

 

iii.

They’re in a forest the same evergreen as her dress. She’s untying her red ribbon and letting it fall to the ground. She’s careless with it, her eyes too busy roaming over Souda’s body to watch, but it curls up in the dirt perfectly anyway. It’s like a tail falling away from a kitsune, only to reveal a beautiful woman, naked under her red fur coat. Sonia’s stepping out of her skirt like it’s a fairy circle. Except there’s no mushrooms around her, and no magic save what he sees before his eyes. Souda’s sweating, he can feel wet patches soaking through under the arms of his uniform. She smiles, a spell to freeze his heart. “Your accent’s really cute,” she says before she undoes her bra. Her breasts sway in front of him, and he rests them in the palms of his hands. They’re so soft, and much warmer than he’d expected.

She smiles at him but he’s too shocked to breathe. He’s dreamed of this so many times, and yet this time feels even more real than the last, than any of the times... “You’re so warm...” he manages, breathless and dull.

“Thank you,” Sonia says, and swings her legs over his body, so she’s almost sitting on his lap.

She pushes him down and straddles him on the forest floor, palming him through his clothes. “Too many,” she says. “You’re wearing too many, I mean...” 

_Oh my god, I can see everything..._ Souda thinks as she peels off his uniform, a _zzzzzzzzzip_ echoing in the silent wood.

“Is this really okay?” Souda says, mentally cursing himself as he does. _Of course it’s okay, it’s better than okay!_

Sonia leans down so their foreheads are almost touching. She presses one finger to his lips—god, even her fingers smell delicious—and whispers, “Don’t move. Don’t say a word.”  
She slips her finger in his mouth and starts to move.

There’s a sort of humming in Souda’s ears. Like she’s making music, or casting a spell...that wouldn’t be so out of character for her, after all. She is kissing him countless times in the junction of his ear and his neck and his jaw and he’s paralyzed. Even when he tries to speak, no sound comes out. Her tongue flicks in and out of his ear.

“Just like that,” Sonia says. “You’re a good boy.”

She’s on top of Souda, pushing herself down and snapping herself up. Louder even than the zipper are the moans that escape her as she rides him. 

She’s so beautiful that he blacks out.

 

iv.

He sees her at the mouth of the gate of a beautiful building. No, a crystal castle. It’s clear, sparkling in the sunlight—he squints looking at it. It looks like it’s made entirely of polished glass. No matter which way he looks, a thousand arches stretch on and on… He can glimpse gardens pushing against the inner walls, but in most places the multiple facets of glass throw blinding rainbows of light across his vision and obscure what’s within.

“Wha…What is it?” he asks, voice bouncing too loud off crystal towers.

She laughs, a twinkling sound. Like far-off stars at night, or china if it could sing. “Silly,” she says. “This is my house! Come on!” She takes his hand and pulls him toward the shining gate to her home.

But what does he see when he steps in but the worst sight that could greet his eyes, multiplied a millionfold in the sharp crumples of the architecture.  
Gundam’s lying on the floor, reflected into a hundred million Gundams, all curled into the fetal position and snoring awfully through their scarves.

“Sonia, seriously, what the fuck?” he says. His voice comes out rougher and angrier than he ever meant to sound to her, and even though he’s mad a short tableau flickers through his head: his nose nuzzled in her hair, arms wrapped around her as she says, _I’m sorry Souda. You’re right to be mad._ Maybe even: _Oh Souda, you’re so muscular. Please hold me,_ as her expression dissolves into something less wan and more wanton. Too far? Ah, why should it matter... A man can dream, can't he?

“What?” she says, less annoyed than he thought she would be. “He’s my friend. And he’s intriguing.” Her hands slide off her hips to cradle his arm.

“What?” Souda says, more annoyed than he should be. “What’s interesting about him? He’s just some weirdo who talks to fat hamsters and dreams of devildogs.”

“There’s only one,” Sonia says quietly. “Of importance, anyway.”

“Stop defending him!” Souda isn’t quite sure where his sudden rage comes from. Gundam is snivelling peacefully on the floor. Sonia stands in front of his body. As Souda raises his hand he can see for the first time something he’s never seen before in her eyes. So quick it would be almost imperceptible, except this is his mind, and in his mind her expression has slowed. He can divide it again and again and get the same result: a sudden surprise, a flicker of recognition, and that sickening moment of fear for a second before her face flattens into a line.

Souda sees that her reflections are vanishing, first one by one, faster and faster until all that's left is a single Sonia, whose legs are beginning to smoke.

“I don’t understand why you’re leaving me,” are the last words out of Souda’s mouth before Sonia disappears for good.


End file.
